


Sword of the Queen

by Hunters_Grace



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-03 22:32:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14006256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hunters_Grace/pseuds/Hunters_Grace
Summary: Daenerys had been in disarray when she arrived in Winterfell, she was facing a war followed by another war, the loss of Viserion, a shattered heart, and the fact that she was no longer the heir to the Iron Throne.She honestly didn’t know which was worse.But an unexpected encounter between the dragon and a wolf might just go a long way in helping the Queen find her place in the harsh northern winter.(Completed)





	1. Soulmates

**Author's Note:**

> First fic I'm posting on here, I hope you like it.  
> I really love both of these ladies in GoT and think they'd be a really awesome power couple - but here's a little bit of a show of their softer sides.  
> Let me know what you think.

Daenerys had arrived in the northern stronghold of Winterfell just over a month ago. The Dragon Queen had found adjusting to the harsh climate of the north a struggle to begin with, she had felt the tension and anger from the Lords and had even had to settle into a new awkwardness with Jon - the pair having found out his true heritage upon their arrival, and neither having properly spoken to each other since (and neither really wanting to). What they had done on the journey had been wrong and they had both regretted it before they had even found out who Jon, Aegon, really was. It was in the past now though and despite the fact that their frosty familial relationship was starting to thaw, the young Targaryen had still had to contend with the north for a month without him.

Daenerys had been in disarray when she arrived in Winterfell, she was facing a war followed by another war, the loss of Viserion, a shattered heart, and the fact that she was no longer the heir to the Iron Throne.

She honestly didn’t know which was worse.

She had dealt with war, and she’d be damned if she couldn’t do it again and again.

She had dealt with loss; Drogo, her unborn son, Daario, the Ironborn, High Garden, she knew by now how to cope with the pain of loss.

But when she had dealt with that before she had a goal to achieve - she was the heir to the Iron Throne, she needed to reclaim her birthright, but now there was nothing. She had nothing but the fact that she called herself the Queen, and to those outside her advisory and the Stark family, she still was. It still broke her though, more than she cared to admit.

And if she’d thought that was bad, on top of it she had to eventually deal with her shattered heart. 

She was a Targaryen, the children of Valyria were never blessed in the same way that the children of the new Gods were. Soul marks had not appeared on the skin of a Targaryen since the new religion was founded - they weren’t always a good thing she was told, they could cause problems if soul marks were between nobles and common folk, or if it appeared on two enemy houses, so they were often hidden from the rest of the world if possible. 

Daenerys had given up on getting a soul mark by the time she was old enough to hear about them. She had settled into a relationship with Drogo who had no mark of his own, they had been relatively happy and with her moon and stars she had found peace. His passing had been hard to take, but it wasn’t the biggest shock, that came a few days later with his funeral. She had been lying in her tent after the event, still in mourning but handling it better than most would’ve, she had felt a slight burning on her left abdomen just by her hip. The Khaleesi had pulled off the sleep shirt she was in to check the area, her mouth had fallen open in astonishment as her fingers moved to trace the new mark that ran along her abdomen - there lay the head of a grey wolf, with a thin sword crossing through the image at an angle.

It had taken her weeks to process that this was a soul mark, something everyone thought impossible for her to have. The wolf she had figured out could provide a link to House Stark (her family had ties with them with Rhaegar and Lyanna after all), but she had no clue as to which member of the northern house it linked her to.

It had been months since she first met the King in the North - Jon Snow, bastard son of Eddard Stark. She had spent plenty of time with the so called King, and they had gotten along well - she had started to wonder if Jon was the one that her soul mark was meant to lead her to. She had grown closer to him under that assumption and it wasn’t until she’d gotten herself in too deep on the long journey to Winterfell one night that it couldn’t possibly have been him. Jon Snow had got a soul mark, a faded one but it was still visible, a small bow and arrow on his left wrist (the mark from his Wildling lover who had recently passed) - if she was honest with herself she could’ve figured it out before but she had been caught out dreaming; Jon was the white wolf after all (her wolf was grey), and whilst his greatest strength was his sword Longclaw the slimness of the blade on her mark suggested that it wasn’t his sword either, but she had caved into hope and immediately regretted it (as did Jon, or Aegon Targaryen - her nephew as she would later discover).

They had a rocky companionship after that, and when they had arrived at Winterfell the Dragon Queen had been seriously worried about how she’d survive without any northern friends.  
Jon had introduced her to his sister Sansa upon their arrival, the red wolf had been polite and proper and seemed friendly enough, but the Starks were loyal to a fault and if Jon had a problem with Daenerys then she was sure Sansa would share his opinion. Young Brandon Stark had been openly kind despite his strange approach to people - she later discovered why, the ‘three-eyed raven’ had made him able to see everything and that was a burden that would change anybody, but Daenerys liked the boy all the same. Arya Stark hadn’t been present when the Queen had arrived, but after initial introductions and a taxing meeting with the northern Lords, she had been led to the training yard in Winterfell by Jon and Sansa.  
She hadn’t known what to expect when she met the younger she-wolf, she’d heard tales of course that she was different to any other noble in Westeros, but she hadn’t expected that she would find the girl mid sparring session with the northern soldiers.

She watched from the gateway with the older Starks as the small gathered crowd of soldiers cheered for both their fellow soldier and the young Lady Stark. The girl moved with a flowing ease whilst wielding the slight sword in her left hand, the movements the likes of which Daenerys had never seen - she would duck and weave and spin the sword loosely in her hand, the sword itself was so small she had questioned if it was fair to let her fight with a blade so much smaller than her opponents. Sansa and Jon had just laughed and the Queen had then turned to watch, noting the way the girl almost danced around her opponent and seated him on his arse in the snow in record time - much to the delight off the gathered crowd.

“Arya!” Jon’s voice had rang out through the courtyard and the girl turned towards the group by the gate - Jon, Sansa and Daenerys standing with Tyrion, Greyworm and Missandei to one side. There was a slight smile tugging at one side of the girl’s mouth and she called something in a language not common over her shoulder before she began walking towards the group.   
The confidence she had been fighting with before now mirrored even in the way she walked, and Daenerys felt her jaw go slack as a growl echoed and a huge grey wolf paced up to the young Stark’s side. When the pair came to a stop, it took the Queen a moment to stop staring, remembering that she should be making an introduction.

“Lady Stark, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Daenerys cursed herself for the slight stutter in her speech, she was a Queen goddamnit she had to maintain composure in the face of far worse than a pretty girl.

“The pleasure is all mine your majesty - but please, Lady Stark was my mother and is now my sister, Arya is fine.” The Targaryen smiled and, in that moment, found herself hoping that perhaps she could find a friend in the north after all.

The Dragon found herself in the company of the she-wolf pretty often after that, the girl appearing at seemingly random times and often giving the Targaryen a fright; be it dropping from rooftops, appearing from the trees around the southerners outer camp, the appearances from hallways Daenerys was still learning to navigate as if she knew exactly where the dragon would be.  
It was two weeks into her stay in Winterfell when the she-wolf had started to show the level of confidence in her interactions with the Queen that she did when she was fighting off the northern soldiers as practice.

There had been a celebration after a successful tangle with a band of White Walkers that had broken away from the rest of their group. The Queen was sat head and centre of the nobles table at one end of the hall, the rest of the people in the room drinking and talking and dancing and generally paying little attention to the nobles as they enjoyed their festivities. Daenerys was happy sat there watching as the King of the North and his Lords talked and drank, Bran was sat with Meera by his side as she attempted to get him to dance as much as he could, Sansa was speaking to the Lady Mormont and some of the other female soldiers around, and her own advisors were drinking with their fellow southerners. 

It was then that she felt a tap on her left shoulder and caught the fact that there were several eyes in the room back on her as she turned to be met with a cheeky grey gaze, the she-wolf bowing as she held a hand out to the Queen whose lips begun to form a wavering smile at the gesture.

“Care to dance your majesty?” The Queen noticed a slight pause in the room’s chatter as looked up at the Stark.

“I’d love to Lady Stark.” The Dragon carefully placed her hand in the wolf’s and bit back a smile as warm fingers tangled with her own to lead her round the table to the small dance floor. Everyone had gone about their business again after that, a few watched on as over and over the Queen would go to dance with whichever Lord had asked it of her before returning to Arya’s side for the next dance.

It had been that evening that Daenerys had finally clicked on to what she was feeling for the Stark girl, and to why she was so enamoured with her. Wrapped in her warmth the Targaryen’s mind flicked back over the time they’d been together - when Arya had introduced her to Nymeria (the grey wolf), the countless times she’d watched Arya fight, or the few when she’d allowed the wolf to teach her how to (with a blade so slight it’s name of needle was highly adapt).

The she-wolf had walked her to her door on the other side of the fortress to her own quarters and had stood looking down at their entwined fingers for a few beats as both women refused to leave the comfort of each other’s company. The girl finally locked the Stark grey eyes that Daenerys had often found herself getting lost in, onto the Targaryen violet of the Queen’s. She smirked softly and pressed a kiss against the blonde’s cheek, leaving her reaching for the spot with her free hand, but she wasn’t so shocked that she couldn’t respond. So, when the wolf made to turn and leave, the Dragon tugged on the hand still claimed in her own and spun the younger Stark back to face her - she had tangled her free hand up in short brown locks and pulled her closer, pressing her lips against the other girl’s.

“Goodnight, my wolf.”

“Goodnight Dany.”

As she closed the door behind her, the Targaryen had leant back against the piece of wood with a smile gracing her lips. She recalled not a month earlier when she had demanded Jon not call her Dany, it was the nickname her psychotic brother had given her and hearing it from him had angered her… but somehow, falling from the lips of his younger sister, the nickname was one she was happy to receive - one spoken only with pure intentions, with kindness, with love.

She had sat on her bed that night, her sleep shirt pulled up as she studied her soul mark, tracing the lines of it with her fingertips. Her wolf indeed.

They had spent as much time as was possible together since then, her wolf taking her for walks or joining her late at night to talk or indulge in other pleasures - occasionally even pulling Dany from her room to dance with her on the snow covered rooftops and watch the stars light up the night sky on those rare clear nights in the bleak northern winter.

Dany found herself caring less and less about what wars or hardships would come their way now; the White Walkers could march south with Viserion, Cersei could try to wipe the Targaryen from existence, hell the whole world could come crumbling down around her but she wouldn’t care in the slightest, at least she’d die the happiest she could remember being. At least she could die with her wolf by her side. 

Arya would be damned if she let any of that happen though; Dany had told her the notions running through her head of damning the consequences and just being happy that she was happy, and the wolf hand bent the knee on the spot.

“If I have made you happy my Queen then there is no greater honour that could be bestowed upon me, but you will not lose this war and if Cersei wants to try to remove you from your birthright I would die defending you. You have my sword Dany, as loyally as you have my heart, I swear I won’t let anything hurt you okay?”

The Dragon Queen was pretty sure she’d cried when she’d fell into Arya’s embrace that evening, though no one would ever find out about that, and she knew for sure that she had been right those many times before when she thought Arya her wolf.

They had remained together since, and last night had fallen asleep wrapped in each other’s arms as they prepared for the battle that dawn would bring with it - the Whites were here, and Winterfell would likely be under siege soon, and Dany had all but dragged Arya back to her quarters with her when the panic in her chest began to rise at the thought.

“Promise me you’ll come back?” The Queen’s voice came out as a choked sob against the crook of her wolf’s neck and the other girl rubbed her hands along her back to soothe her as she responded.

“I’ll always be with you Dany, and I’ll always come back to you, I promise.”

They had eventually lay next to each other on top of the bedsheets after Dany had properly calmed down and the Dragon had to ask something, in case Arya broke her promise come dawn, or in case she herself didn’t return.

“Do you believe in soul marks, Arya?” The girl had turned to meet her gaze before looking back to the ceiling and answering.

“I do. I believe that people can be more suited to certain people than others and I know that soul marks, when they appear, can lead you to those people. I don’t think it has to be done that way, but I think it can be.”

The former Faceless Man had answered the question far too diplomatically for Dany’s liking and she pouted slightly as she felt the hope start to drain from her, what if Arya wasn’t her wolf? She had to know… In case this was the last chance she had to ask.

“Do you have one? A soul mark.”

The Targaryen felt the girl nod against her and she lifted her head up so that Arya could see the eyebrow that had arched in question of her response. The she-wolf smirked and Dany fixed her with a glare as the girl seemed to be leaving that as her only response. The Stark eventually turned onto her side and propped herself up on her right elbow, moving the left side of her shirt off her abdomen where the join to her hip was. Dany couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face, more like a Cheshire Cat than a Dragon as she reached out to trace the lines of the mark. A black dragon with three heads, a crown perched upon one of their heads.

Arya watched carefully as the woman trailed her fingers over the image.

“You knew?” Was all she heard the Targaryen mutter.

“I wasn’t sure at first,” Dany met those Stark grey eyes as the woman continued, “I knew there was more than one of you; tradition, three dragons for three riders and I didn’t know which it’d be… until I saw you fly in on the back of Drogon - black dragon with the Queen as its rider, it could’ve only ever been you.”

The Dragon had moved first, launching onto her wolf and practically pinning her to the bed as she assaulted her lips with kisses, more happy and excited than she had ever been before.

“Now you really best come back.” Dany had muttered before leaning in for a deeper and much longer lasting kiss. 

The young Stark surprising her as she flipped their positions and trailed kisses mixed with nips of teeth down the column of the blonde’s throat. The shirt she had intended to sleep in quickly discarded as the wolf ran the path of lips, tongue and teeth further down the Dragon’s body. Dany had all but shivered with pleasure as the girl placed a kiss on her breastbone and she felt the girl’s smirk against her skin at her reaction to her touch. A hand twisted into choppy brown hair as she tried to guide Arya to either side of her current position, groaning aloud when the girl refused and continued south until her lips found a place on the space by her hip on the left side.

“So I really am your wolf.”

The statement pulled Dany’s gaze back to those hypnotising eyes and they shared a smile, purely, unequivocally happy with the situation they found themselves in. Dany had sat up slightly, bringing herself back up to meet Arya’s lips in a tangle of love and happiness - and even if it was just for one night, Dany would take pleasure in losing herself completely in the love of her wolf.

War was for the morning, for now she would be at peace in her love’s arms.


	2. Loyal Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys Targaryen had faced down a lot of terrifying things in her life - she faced several threats of war, she'd faced down certain death one too many times, and she'd been in the line of dragon fire.  
> Yet the one thing that she didn't expect was Arya Stark.  
> With war still threatening will the Starks remain loyal to each other or could soul marks be as much of a problem as Dany had been warned about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys seemed to enjoy the first chapter, so here's a little Stark family reaction following Chapter 1.  
> Let me know what you think, and if you want more chapters to follow.  
> Hope you enjoy it as much as the first chapter.

“Where’s Arya?! The Whites are getting closer, this was supposed to be a military meeting.” The King in the North had asked, almost in disbelief that his sister hadn’t shown up.

“With a dragon.” Bran had stated, eyes glazed white as he warged into the raven.

Jon paused and almost choked on the air he was breathing as he made to respond.

“Daenerys?” The red wolf by his side laughed at her cousin’s reaction.

“Oh please Jon, it’s not like we hadn’t figured that one out.” The King’s composure had completely gone and he just blinked blankly at the other woman, throwing his arms up in exasperation. He didn’t know, how did Sansa know?! “Arya has shown you the scars on her when she told us about Braavos, you can’t seriously have not noticed the dragon mark on her hip.”

Now that he thought about it he did remember; not in so much detail as the redhead but he could remember seeing a mark. He’d paid no attention to it though, he loved his sister but there were some things he didn’t need to know about.

“Set up the board Jon, she’ll be here, you know she will… even if she’s late.” Sansa’s smirk told Jon she knew what he was cringing at the thought of. He could see her holding in laughter too and he just mouthed a ‘don’t start’ at her as he moved to set the pieces of the board to represent the position of the White armies (in the places his scouts had told him they’d been spotted at least).  
The roar of a dragon from above the keep somewhere made many of the people in the room flinch.

“I’ll never get used to that.” The thick northern accent of Ser Davos had muttered as he shook his head and followed the King of the North outside to see what was going on, Sansa wheeling Bran behind them. All they could hope was that that dragon wasn’t the reason for Arya’s lateness - the Night King hadn’t been spotted yet, so they could only hope he hadn’t been hiding in the clouds on the undead dragon he took beyond the wall.

When they got into the courtyard they were more than relieved to find that the dragon overhead was as black as night and not as white as the snow like they’d feared it would be. Jon shook his head, he had thought the other two dragons had been hiding way out of sight above the clouds or across towards the nearby and recently reclaimed Iron Islands, so he honestly hadn’t expected anything other than more bad news when he’d walked outside.

That would not be the strangest part of the morning encounter with the dragon though. First came Sansa’s short burst of laughter who pointed out into the courtyard where the only direwolf left in Winterfell, Arya’s wolf Nymeria, ran in circles underneath the dragon’s flight path and howled loudly up at it. Jon had no idea how to respond to the peculiar behaviours of the normally ferocious animal in front of them.

“What is she doing?” The King’s question had received only a shrug in response from his sister who also looked quite bemused at the events playing out in front of them.

The group stood watching for a good few minutes before they were finally able to understand Nymeria’s obsession with running with the dragon. The beast had landed, not smoothly at all, but it had landed in the middle of the courtyard a good 20 feet away from the family and their advisors. 

The King in the North wasn’t sure who of the group was more shocked when his sister had dropped from the back of the dragon with a smile on her face and a Targaryen at her side. The dragon had rumbled out a complaining noise and flew off again quickly, joining his brother in the sky again.

Jon, whilst not against anything that clearly made Arya happy, was seriously unsure of how to react to the situation that they currently found themselves in.

It was true, he knew he had not been meant for the Dragon Queen himself, and regretted taking things too far - but it still didn’t help ease his awkwardness at facing this. His relationship with his aunt had only just began to return to something like what it had been before and this threw up a whole other set of things that he would inevitably have to get used to. Arya had grinned up at the group that had clearly seen something that was nigh impossible for anyone not of Targaryen descent to be able to do, and Jon just shook his head in disbelief - even he hadn’t been close enough to ride one of the dragons yet and he held their blood.

“I want to know how you did that.” He stated simply when the pair were slightly closer, pointing a finger in between his younger sister and the hole that Drogon had left in the clouds. “But first, I need your council Captain. We have a war fast approaching.”

“Of course.” 

The King in the North didn’t miss the nudge and whispered comment that Sansa had made to Arya as they walked back inside - and to Arya’s credit she didn’t show that the dig at her new found ‘dragon riding’ abilities embarrassed her (the Queen behind her however, had not managed to quell the deep red that covered her cheeks - though luckily, Jon didn’t think the redhead doing the teasing had noticed that reaction).

Sansa was taking this far better than Jon was. Despite his attempts at pretending nothing was wrong, Arya could see the discomfort behind his eyes. She understood why it was there too - she knew what had happened between the two Targaryen’s before she’d even had a real conversation with the Queen herself, but at least he was trying. There was a conversation there that clearly needed to be had, but it was for another day - perhaps one when war was not on their doorstep and they could start to believe that this would last, but they couldn’t do that until this was all over and Westeros was safe from the White Walkers that had gathered throughout the woods just north of Winterfell.   
The meeting had lasted a good few hours, and Arya still couldn’t decide whether the best part of it was Jon’s awkwardness, or the other Targaryen’s obvious exhaustion as the decision that the younger Stark was in fact right took so long to reach.

The group did eventually split to go and make all the necessary preparations for the siege that would soon be upon them; though Arya found herself moving no further than off her seat before Jon’s voice halted her.

“Arya. Can we talk?” She had nodded carefully, sharing a fleeting glance with her dragon as the others present for the meeting filtered out of the room.

“What is it Jon?”

“I want you to know that I don’t mind…” The man cleared his throat as he took pause. “About Daenerys. It’ll take some getting used to, but if you’re happy, I’ll be happy for you.”

The Stark moved to wrap herself around her brother’s mid-section, he may not be her brother by blood but by heart he always would be.

“It’s okay if you do mind.” She responded as she took a step back. “I’d understand.”

“I don’t.” His eyes still showed the awkwardness he felt, but Arya knew his words were still sincere. “Do you know why I don’t mind?” The girl shook her head. “Because that mark on your hip, means she was always yours… and if you wanted anymore proof of that; the dragon that lets no one but Daenerys near it for longer than a few seconds, let you fly on its back. I’m going to be awkward because I’m not used to it yet, but I’m never going to mind okay?”

Arya nodded carefully, coughing to clear the lump forming in her throat - she was a former Faceless Man and damnit she would not cry because her brother was nice to her! (Except she totally would, but when she was hidden in the darkness of her dragon’s quarters and explaining the day’s events to Dany).

Sansa had already known about all of it; she’d approached her younger sister the day after they’d all regrouped and shared their dark tales, the one light part of the story that her sister had held onto was spotting the black dragon that marked her skin.

She expects that was why Sansa seemed so calm when it actually happened, she’d had the time to prepare for it that Jon hadn’t. Plus it always helped that the red wolf seemed to revel in the opportunity to tease Arya in her love life; much like the brunette had done to her when they were still children.

Arya had found Bran a little later. He had been sat in the Godswood, glazed eyes blinking back into focus as soon as his sister launched herself up to perch on one of the branches of the tree he was sat at the base of.

“I know you already knew, but-”

“I don’t mind.” Her brother said quickly, cutting her off. “I’d seen it coming, I saw it happening, and I’m happy for you. There’s no feeling like it.” Arya regarded her brother for a moment, head tilted to the side in thought.

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

Bran had rolled up his left sleeve at his sister’s statement, revealing a small crocodile mark.

“The symbol of House Reed, Meera. I mean we all kind of assumed you know.”

“You’re one to talk.” Arya was almost certain that this was the first time she’d seen Bran properly smile in a conversation with her and she had missed that smile so much.

Dany had found her there that evening; hours later, still talking to her brother from her perch in the tree. The Targaryen couldn’t help but smile at the image - she’d known Arya had been meaning to talk to her family about their situation for a while now, and seeing the smile on her love’s face she breathed a sigh of relief. If the dragon was honest, she’d expected some backlash, and was grateful to have been proven wrong thus far.

She’d listened with enraptured attention as the she-wolf had told her what had happened with them all after Dany had left the meeting room, she herself electing not to mention her run in with the red wolf on her way out to the southern army’s camp outside the keep of Winterfell. Sansa had done nothing less than threaten her with death should she hurt her little sister, and the Queen knew better than to doubt that threat would be followed through - the Starks were loyal, but she was too… especially to Arya, and she had absolutely no intention of doing her ill. When she had told Sansa as such, what she had expected was to be left alone, what she had received was a hug and a long and embarrassing round of teasing from the eldest Stark sibling. She had grumbled in protest, but would have accepted all the teasing in the world to keep Sansa’s trust in her present.

The day hadn’t gone as was expected and whilst the endless winter continued, and war still threatened to wreck havoc on Westeros, the pair would take as many days of peace and happiness as they were allowed to have.

War was coming, but it was for another day.


	3. Winter's War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the White's war finally arrives, it does not care who it takes down with it - they came for Westeros and they won't give it up easily.  
> All is fair in love and war, but is it always fair when the two are mixed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was requested that I add more to the story, and the next suitable point in the story is the war for the lives of the living.  
> How will Arya and Dany fair when that war finally arrives?  
> Thinking of adding one more chapter after this if you guys want it?  
> Hope you enjoy.  
> Like, comment, and let me know what you think.

War would come with the next day. Dawn had not yet risen when Dany felt the wolf all but jump from the bed.

“Arya, what’s wrong?” The Dragon Queen had struggled to blink the sleep from her eyes in the darkness of the early morning, that was until she heard the ringing of a bell and shouts from out the window of the room.

“They’re here.” The response was exactly what Dany had been dreading hearing since she had reached the northern fortress of Winterfell. Despite how prepared they were, no one really knew what awaited them once the siege started.

The blonde shuffled her way to the edge of the bed and, as she swung her legs over the side, Arya placed her hands on her shoulders. The violet hue of the dragon’s eyes meeting the Stark grey in front of her.

“What?”

“I love you, Dany… and I need you to know that, just in case-” Dany shook her head and swallowed the lump in her throat.

“You know I love you too, but don’t do that Arya. Please, don’t say goodbye.”

The Stark had agreed, pressing a kiss to her Queen’s lips before she’d given in to the sound of the bell and ran outside to help her soldiers. 

The Targaryen had joined the battle later, on Drogon’s back she had scorched through chunks of the Whites numbers but it wasn’t stopping them. She’d seen the troops fighting from the ground too, armed with dragonglass and doing what they could to hold off the White advances. They had done well by the time the day came to an end, but this war had only just begun.

When she returned to her quarters for some rest that evening, Dany did not sleep… Her wolf hadn’t joined her all night and she was too sick with worry to sleep without her there. She’d managed to find the girl the next day - she was hurt but was better off than many of the others. Dany had cried as she ran into the Stark’s arms and allowed herself to be comforted by her embrace, there was only so much worrying a person could suffer through without knowing anything. That day, she’d had Arya in the skies with her - Rhaegal allowing the wolf to be his rider, despite the fact that she was not of Targaryen blood.

They were still at a stalemate almost a week later though; they’d done the same things everyday… Fire, steel, blood, and ice all coming together - and neither side seemed to be making any progress.

It was the 7th day when things came to a head though. Bran was sat in the Godswood and the Starks and Targaryens were with him when the raven spoke his news.

“Winter comes on dragon’s breath, and with icy fire they bring death…”

A cry had sounded over head almost immediately after the boy stopped speaking and the group had flinched as they turned in time to see one of the walls of the keep crumble. 

“Bran! I need you to try and bring that thing down!”

Arya’s cry was almost lost on the wind as she sprinted back towards her home, Dany unable to do anything but watch on in horror as her love ran straight into danger. The Queen had been led back to Winterfell by Sansa when Jon ran after Arya, and they got to the keep in time for the Mother of Dragons to see Viserion fell Rhaegal with an icy blast.

She’d lost him too. She saw the apologetic look from Tyrion as Grey Worm and many of the Unsullied worked to set a pyre around the dragon before it could join the army of the dead. These creatures had cost her too much. 

Dany had desperately looked around then, for Arya or Jon or any of the others but she couldn’t see them amongst the crowd. What she could see, however, was Nymeria… The dragon whistled as clearly as she could to call the wolf’s attention to her, and a grey head spun before it bounded over to her.

Daenerys Targaryen had been many things in her life, weak was not one of them, defeated was not one of them - so she’d jumped onto the direwolf’s back, grabbed one of the dragonglass swords and made to help the soldiers fighting for her kingdom. She didn’t feel as comfortable around a blade as she did around fire, but Arya had taught her enough over her time here that the dragon wasn’t incompetent. The soldiers eventually managed to start carving more of a dent in the White army as they pushed them back beyond the crumbled border of the Stark’s homeland. The Night King was doing more damage to the northern armies than they could cope with though, and if something didn’t stop him soon then Westeros would fall to the Whites.

Something did though. Dany had heard the horn echo over the battlefield, had heard the cry of her dragon in response, and had turned in time to see her wolf stood on the roof of the keep - in time to see the dragon swoop low next to the wall, and to see the wolf leap from her perch onto his back. The fire hailing over the northern army’s heads helping greatly to chip away at the numbers of undead soldiers charging towards them.

They were turning the tables.

They could win this.

And that was when Dany felt it, the burning sensation on her left abdomen.

She’d almost dropped her sword at the sudden pain, and her heart had plummeted when she realised the reason for the burning.

Drogon had been locked in an attempt at fighting his brother, his claws managing to leave deep cuts across his face. As soon as Viserion threatened to release an icy blast from his throat, Arya had dropped onto the other dragon’s back so Drogon could fly clear of the threat. 

She’d seen Meera wheel Bran to the back of the courtyard so he could see Viserion as he attempted to warg into the dragon, but he may have been too late.

Arya had managed to get the jump on the Night King, and the whole battlefield had heard his scream when she pushed the Valyrian steel blade into his chest. But he had led the White army this far and despite the fact that his forces had collapsed with him, the Night King was not about to lose an opportunity to inflict one last blow.

Dany was sure she’d never heard herself scream until that moment when she’d watched her wolf tumble from the back of Viserion with the Night King’s sword sticking out of her abdomen.

This wasn’t happening, she couldn’t lose her. Not her too.

She’d vaguely been aware of Bran’s eyes starting to glaze over, and over her own thoughts she had barely heard Jon yell across the courtyard to his cousin.

“Bran catch her! Bran! Quickly!”

Dany had seen the wolf hit a tree branch, and flinched away from the sight before the girl could hit the floor. The Queen only looking back when she heard a dragon roar, and she saw the wolf safely   
in the talons of Viserion as he placed her on the ground in the courtyard. 

Bran warging out of him as soon as the dragon was far enough away that when the death of the Night King took its effect on him, he wouldn’t crush half of Winterfell.

Dany had jumped from Nymeria to try and get to the girl, but Jon caught her before she was quite able to reach her. Doctors swooping in from all angles instead as Jon whispered to his aunt.

“Stop. Daenerys, she’ll be okay… I need you to let the medics do their job.”

The Dragon Queen had broke down on the King in the North then, the man was clearly uncomfortable but he did what he could to console the woman.

It wasn’t for several hours that Dany would properly calm down again though. 

Once the doctor’s had patched Arya up as best they could, the dragon had too a seat by the woman’s bed and refused to leave until she knew she would be okay.

The wolf was bruised and bleeding and had broken both bones in her left forearm when she fell, but she was still alive… and the burning had finally stopped, her soul mark still perfectly intact (she   
should know, she’d checked every few minutes whilst the medics worked on Arya - it was how she knew she was alive).

A soft grunt pulled Dany’s gaze back to her wolf in time to see grey eyes flutter open.

“Dany…? What happened?” The dragon let out a shaky laugh as the wolf’s voice graced her ears again.

“We won… and if you ever do that to me again, I will kick your arse Stark. Faceless man or not.”

Arya laughed at the threat, knowing that Dany probably wasn’t kidding but still not too worried about it.

“I’ll do my best not to…”

“Good.” Dany let her head fall to rest against Arya’s as she tangled their fingers together. “I love you Arya.”

“I love you too.”

Dany brought their lips together then, hard enough that Arya knew how desperately she wanted the wolf in her life, but soft enough that it wouldn’t hurt the girl with the state if injury she was in at the moment.

The war was over, and no matter what would come tomorrow, Dany would be happy in this moment with her wolf - war was done, love was all that mattered right now.


	4. Of Dragons and Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war with the Whites is over. King's Landing is all that is left to conquer.  
> Will Daenerys finally be able to find peace with her wolf?  
> The Queen and the assassin, they were ready to give in to love, they just needed to get through one more fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence and dramatic speeches ensue...  
> But at the end of the day, we all fight for what we'll be left with when the war is over.  
> Love.  
> Hope you enjoy the final instalment.  
> Like, comment, and let me know what you think.

It was a few weeks before Arya was fully healed again, and the girl had spent most of that time muttering curses about how she hated not being able to do anything - her dominant arm being the one in a splint for the time. But now Dany could watch as her wolf fell back into a more comfortable routine again, by that she meant that she’d spent the last few days watching Arya seat the other soldiers on their arses in the thawing snow.

They’d dealt with most of the politics they needed to whilst the younger Stark was out of action, knowing that it was something she wouldn’t mind missing.

They had extensive conversations about everything that was going to happen next. They’d saved the land of the living, but they knew there was a great deal to do before they could say the seven kingdoms were at peace.

Jon had approached Daenerys whilst she’d been in the courtyard checking over Drogon the day after the battle had ended and, in front of the North, he’d bent the knee again. This time as Aegon Targaryen, he abdicated and renounced his claim to the Iron Throne. The Queen had smiled at the man, not quite sure what to make of the gesture - she’d been prepared to have to lose her birthright, but he had simply handed it back to her.

“It was always your throne, your majesty. All I ask is to keep my home.”

Dany had gladly named him Warden of the North (so long as she took the throne), though in private she had asked Sansa to watch over the place too - Jon had good intentions, but he didn’t quite understand politics the way the red wolf did.

“I was tempted to name you Warden.” She’d confessed to Arya later that evening when she told her what had happened whilst she was under strict orders to stay in the infirmary.

“I would’ve refused.” The blonde quirked an eyebrow at the Stark in question, and the girl continued simply. “I told you I’d always be with you, that hasn’t changed.”

“You’d leave Winterfell?”

“For you? I’d do anything Dany. You know I would.”

Arya had stayed true to her word too and a few weeks after she’d recovered, they rode south. Dany, Arya, Jon, and Sansa - Bran stayed to watch over Winterfell, it wasn’t like he didn’t already know how this was going to end anyway.

It took awhile to get to King’s Landing, and when they arrived the Lannister army had opened the gates and let them in. Tyrion informing her that his brother Jamie no longer saw Cersei as fit to rule too - and as Captain of the Guard, he’d made their entrance a little easier… It didn’t take them long to reach the throne room within the palace after that, and Arya and Jon had opened the doors easily for Dany to stride through… looking every bit the Queen she was always supposed to be.

“You think 4 people will be enough to win you the Iron Throne?!” The Queen had squawked out as they approached her, the Mountain standing in their way of the Lannister.

“Actually I have a whole army outside the keep… but I think this will be more than enough.” Dany could practically hear the growl forming in Arya’s throat as her wolf’s fingers twitched around her sword. “I hear you’ve caused pain to more than just my family.”

The dragon saw Cersei’s eyes flick nervously from her to Sansa, then Jon, then Arya, and back up to her again.

“If they want to try anything, I’ll cause them some more pain too.” A smirk tugged at the corner of Dany’s lips and she stepped back a few paces, gesturing to Arya that she was free to let out the assassin that remained a part of her.

Gregor Clegane had yanked his sword free of its hilt as the wolf approached and swung it hard enough to have took the girl’s head clean off, that was if he’d landed the hit. As it was, Arya simply leant backwards and spun under the man’s swing. The girl standing back to her full height again with ease as she slashed at the back of his knees so he fell low enough for the wolf to be able to send his head rolling across the floor, his body following his head to the ground with a resounding crash.

Cersei visibly tensed up on the throne but didn’t move as the wolf stalked towards her too.

“What a great Queen you are. Your family murdered my father in front of his children, you instructed the Frey’s to butcher my brother, his wife and their unborn child, to cut the throat of a mother of five. You sent my sister through every kind of hell that no-one should have to suffer through. Your family ordered the executions of all the Targaryen bloodline for the deeds of one man. You are as guilty as those who carried out your orders. Do you know what your mistake was though?” The Stark hauled the Queen from the Iron Throne and slammed her back against the floor as she knelt over her, tracing the column of her neck with a dagger. “You didn’t kill all of us. Leave one wolf alive, your majesty, and the sheep are never safe. The North remembers, and now winter comes for House Lannister.”

Arya drew the blade across Cersei’s throat and the woman spluttered for a moment before her eyes rolled back.

Southern soldiers had come to remove the bodies a few moments later, and Dany had walked up the steps to the Iron Throne. Her wolf offering her a hand when she hesitated to take her place on it, and the dragon had taken it and allowed Arya to guide her into the throne.

The Stark took a knee by her side, still holding her hand and Dany had grinned at her before pulling her up off the floor and joining their lips together.

They were vaguely aware of the other two in the room laughing slightly, and Dany saw better than Arya the look they shared with each other when they pulled apart. But she was past caring who was there to see it, she was happy, and she’d scream it to the world if she wanted to - so she pulled the she-wolf back into another kiss, unable to stop the smile from gracing her lips as she did so.

“I love you Dany.”

“I love you too, my wolf.”

Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons, and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms. 

The forenamed woman was coronated merely a week later - and had been very aware of Arya stood by the side of the throne Dany was facing as she knelt, counting out her titles on her fingers as the maester spoke them and holding up 8 fingers with a look that read something along the lines of ‘damn that’s long’. None of which was helping Dany try and keep some form of a Queen’s composure, instead forcing her to have to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing.

The man eventually placed the crown on her head, and Dany took her seat in the throne she’d been vying for since she was old enough to know she should. 

“Long may she reign.”

Dany turned at the sound of Arya’s voice echoing across the hall before the others took up chant, she had expected the maester to continue - but maester Tarly had just smiled and allowed the young wolf to take the moment.

The dragon had spent the majority of that day assigning all the important roles in the kingdom to different people and she was grateful to be able to return to her wolf that evening. When Arya had heard the door open she had spun from where she was facing out of the window and bowed dramatically to the dragon.

“Your majesty!”

Dany laughed and made her way over to pull the wolf back up and into a much longer kiss than normal now that they were finally alone.

“The uniform suits you.” She’d muttered when they’d pulled apart for air, looking over the made-to-fit leather armour Arya was sporting, with a three-headed dragon across the middle of it.   
“However, I think I’d prefer it off for now.”

The two had fumbled with armour and clothing and the crown for a while before they’d fallen onto the mattress of the bed, allowing hands, and lips, and teeth to explore each other’s bodies as they headed eagerly towards a night that would end with very little sleep.

But it didn’t matter…

There was no war to face down tomorrow, there was nothing that required their attention right away… so they’d be damned if they let the opportunity to spend the night solely consumed with each   
other pass them by.

This was peace. This was happy. This was why soulmates were never a curse.


End file.
